“Law school?” Luke stared at Patrick and then at Katie. His brow jagged high. “You’re going to law school?”
Brady leaned close to Luke’s ear, his voice a loaded whisper. “Easy . . .”
Katie’s blue eyes narrowed, as if daring Luke to utter a single word. Her chin cocked up a fraction of an inch. “That’s right. Women have minds too, you know.”
Luke ignored Brady’s subtle jab and planted both arms on the table. He leaned in, his lips twitching with tease. “Of course they do. And I for one am glad opportunities are opening up for women in a number of fields. I guess I just didn’t peg you as someone who would be keen on a career. You just seem so much more suited to – ”
“Marcy, dinner is delicious.” Brady hooked a firm arm around Luke’s shoulders and squeezed. “Thank you for the birthday celebration, and for inviting Luke too.”
“Absolutely, Mrs. O’Connor, everything is wonderful,” Luke agreed with a warm smile.
“More suited to what?” Katie said, her tone as serrated as the knife in her hand.
“Boy, these rolls melt in your mouth, don’t they, Luke?” Brady sounded desperate.
“More-suited-to-what?” she repeated in a deadly whisper.
“They sure do, Mrs. O’Connor. Best I’ve ever had, as a matter of fact.” Luke buttered another piece of a roll and popped it in his mouth, allowing his gaze to settle on Katie once again. He swallowed and grinned. “Oh, I don’t know . . . marrying well?”
Katie gouged her chicken breast with a fork and slashed off a slice with her knife. Her eyes hardened and her smile was brittle. “For your information, I intend to do both, thank you.”
“So, Luke,” Lizzie said in a rush, “Brady says you’ve had offers from a number of law firms. Why the Boston Children’s Aid Society?”
Luke glanced up at Lizzie and released a quiet breath. Why? His smile tempered at the memory of nights spent on the streets of New York, huddled with other homeless youth or “street arabs” as they were called. Lost kids who sought refuge in the alleys and doorways of Mulberry Street, otherwise known as “Death’s Thoroughfare.” The festering sore of New York slums, rife with sewage and rats. Foul. Rancid. Corrupt.
And home. At least until his aunt’s current boyfriend would desert her once again. A lump shifted in Luke’s throat. “Let’s just say I owe a favor. The Children’s Aid Society in New York offered me a hand when I needed it most. The pay isn’t all that great, I know, but the payoff is. For me, it’s rewarding to help get kids off the street.”
Faith’s eyes lit with excitement. She propped her elbows on the table. “Oh, Luke, I’m so proud of you! Tell me, do you get involved with the out-placement program, the one that sends orphans to the Midwest on trains? A friend of mine at church had a neighbor who died in the Spanish Flu epidemic about ten years ago. She was a war widow who left two little boys all alone. According to my friend, the Children’s Aid Society sent the boys to Missouri on an orphan train. They were six and eight at the time, but both boys are doing well in Sedalia, Missouri, I understand.”
Luke’s heart swelled with pride. “Yeah, Faith, I do, although the train traffic is certainly dwindling. When Reverend Brace initiated what he called his ‘family plan’ in 1854, he wanted to see street orphans taken into a home and treated as part of a loving family. Since then, over 200,000 kids have been rescued from the streets and placed in foster families across the country. Some stay here in the East, but others get placed in the Midwest and even out West.” He quickly gulped some tea to diffuse the tightness in his chest. “But the results weren’t always positive, so attitudes are changing. Recently, state and local laws are focusing more on keeping families together, which is actually a pretty good thing. Especially when you realize that many of these kids are not orphans at all. Quite a few have one or two parents who are still alive, but due to neglect, abandonment, or just too many mouths to feed, the kids end up on the streets fending for themselves.”
Luke shifted, suddenly aware his hand was fisted on the table. He slowly relaxed his fingers and took another drink of tea, then swallowed hard and managed a tight smile. “Like me, I guess. I won’t lie to you – it’s pretty tough seeing kids who have been discarded like trash, day in and day out. But the joy I get out of helping them . . . well, I wouldn’t trade it for the world.” His gaze veered to Katie and held. Mischief twitched at the corners of his lips. “Although to tell you the truth,” he said with a hint of the Arkansas drawl he always reserved for a tease, “there are days when I’d rather be jerking sodas.”
Katie shot to her feet. “Coffee, anyone?”
“And how about dessert too?” Faith said, rising with a smile. “Lizzie made birthday cake, and I brought brownies.” She rounded the table to collect dirty dishes and stopped. A frown crimped her brow. “Katie, are you all right? You look flushed.”
The bloom in Katie’s cheeks blossomed into deep rose, bleeding into her face and neck. “I’m fine, Faith, it’s just warm in here.”
Lizzie snatched a napkin to fan her face. “Oh, thank you! I thought it was me.”
“Yeah, Lizzie, I’d go easy on your husband’s birthday candles this year,” Collin said with a grin. He flicked Brady’s head. “No sense in setting the place on fire.”
Sean righted his coffee cup with a chuckle and a wink in Katie’s direction. “No worries there – Sweet Pea can always put it out.”
Katie shoved her chair in with a wry smile and snatched Sean’s dirty plate, piling it on top of her own. “Not real smart, brother dear, mocking the person who’ll be pouring your hot, hot coffee.”
“Ouch . . . sounds dangerous,” Luke said with a grin.
Her eyes seared him. “Depends. Having coffee, Luke?” she asked in a honeyed tone.
He lounged back in his chair and gave her a hooded smile. “Not on your life . . . Katydid.”
With a press of her jaw, she spun on her heel and headed for the kitchen. She paused, one hand braced to the swinging door. “Everybody want coffee? Or should I bring in the tea too?”
Luke opened his mouth to retort, but shut it again when Katie shot him an icy look.
“No coffee for me, Katie. I need lemonade and lots of ice, but I’ll get it.” With a faint groan, Lizzie lumbered up, but Faith gently pushed her back in her seat. “Mother, Lizzie – stay put. Katie and I’ll bring in drinks and dessert while Charity rounds up Mitch and the kids.”
“Sweet saints, we have ice cream, I hope?” Patrick’s voice reflected concern.
Marcy squeezed his hand and shot Luke a smile. “Yes, dear, Luke was nice enough to stop by Robinson’s and bring Brady’s favorites – butter pecan and vanilla.”
“Oh, bless you!” Lizzie said with a grateful smile. She loosened the silk tie of her dress and commenced to fanning herself with a napkin. “If it’s this hot in May, can you imagine how bad the rest of the summer will be? Bless you, Luke.”
“Yeah, bud, thanks.” Brady stretched and draped his arm across the back of Luke’s chair while the others continued chatting around the table. “Ice cream’s the perfect thing to cool us all off.”
Luke gave him a sideways glance and arched a brow. His gaze shifted to the swinging door Katie had just barreled through. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Oh, I don’t know, seems pretty cool in here now.”
Brady smiled and swiped a sip of his tea. “Don’t worry about Katie. She’ll warm up to you – eventually. You know she’s always been a little touchy where you’re concerned. But honestly, Patrick’s right. Working with you at the BCAS will be the best thing for her.”
“Yeah?” Luke let loose with a low chuckle and angled to face the man who had mentored him at the age of fourteen, the friend who had taught him about God. “Why?”
“Because other than Patrick, you’re one of the few who stood up to her, challenged her.”
“Drove her crazy?”
Brady grinned. “Yeah, that too. And trust me, Katie could use a little challenge right a
bout now. I’m afraid the older Marcy gets, the more she coddles her. And her sisters are so busy with their own families that when they do spend time with her, they’re more interested in getting along than butting heads. But you? No, not only are you someone who brings out the worst in her, but as her future boss . . .” Brady rolled his neck to work out the kinks. “You also have an opportunity to soften the worst in her.” A lazy smile eased across Brady’s face as he gave Luke’s shoulder a friendly pat. “That is . . . if you can.”
The door squealed open, unleashing a noisy barrage of children ushered in by Mitch and Charity, who each toted a tub of ice cream. Faith and Katie were hot on their heels, birthday cake aflame and steaming coffeepot in hand. Luke leveled his gaze on Katie, noting her stiff smile and the clamp of her jaw.
A soft chuckle reached his ears as Brady leaned forward and thumped his arm. “I have all the confidence in the world in you, Luke my boy, honestly I do. But if it’s all the same to you . . . I’m hoping you’re a praying man.”
“Promise you’ll talk to him, Mother, please? My life will be over if I have to spend the summer with Cluny McGee.” Katie’s voice was frayed as she washed and dried an ice cream dish and put it in the cupboard. With a labored sigh, she returned to the kitchen table where she commenced to flipping through the latest issue of Vogue magazine.
Marcy laid her granddaughter’s forgotten doll on the table and squeezed Katie’s shoulder. “He goes by Luke now, Katie, and of course I will, you know that. Although I do agree with your father that it could be a fun experience.” With a not-so-reassuring smile, she patted Katie’s cheek and moved toward the door. The resignation etched on her mother’s face did not bode well for Katie’s cause. Marcy turned, her eyes tender. “I promise I’ll try, but you know your father once he’s made up his mind.”
Yes, she knew. She drew in a deep breath and blew it out with a blast of frustration, her stomach tightening at her mother’s tentative tone. “It just isn’t fair, Mother. Father’s like a dictator with everything Steven and I do, and you know it.”
Marcy’s smile seemed tired. “Yes, your father is stubborn and certainly adamant about discipline, but he loves you and Steven with every breath in him, and although it may not seem like it at the time, he’s only looking out for your own good. We both are.”
“Good? Banishing me to some dreary office in the city where a cocky man can lord it all over me like Father does, day in and day out? No, thank you. This is exactly why I want to be a lawyer, Mother – to blaze the way for women who think they need a man to take care of them. Women like Mrs. Rhoades at church – everyone knows that tyrant she lives with beats her, but will she leave? Not on her life.” Katie’s jaw quivered with anger. “And in the end, it will probably cost her hers.”
Her mother’s tone was quiet. “Your father is nothing like Benjamin Rhoades, Katie Rose, and you know it.”
“No, he isn’t, and I love Father, I do, but he’s just as controlling as every other man out there. Just look at Mitch and Charity – he refuses to let her work at her own store.”
“She has children to care for, Katie – ” Marcy began.
“Who are in school eight hours a day. I’ve heard Charity say she would love to work at the store with Emma, even for just a few hours, but will Mitch let her? Not on your life. And he bought the store for her when they got married, for pity’s sake. Instead, he rules with an iron fist, just like Father. And Collin? You and I both know the battles he waged over Faith’s job before she got pregnant with the girls. No, Mother, you are not going to convince me that it’s not a man’s world out there, and I for one think it’s time for a change. In the last decade, women have gotten the right to vote, taken charge of their own future in the workplace, and have broken free from Victorian dictates to forge their own morality – ”
“You mean their own promiscuity,” Marcy said with an edge to her tone. “The flapper lifestyle is hardly a lifestyle we condone, young lady, nor one that will make you happy.”
Katie’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “I know, and I don’t embrace everything espoused today, really I don’t. Alcohol and cigarettes and lewd behavior only cheapen the woman’s cause, in my opinion, not to mention that it gives men what they want without any commitment.” She blew her bangs from her face. “But a little more freedom would be nice, don’t you think?”
Marcy chuckled. “You and I have all the freedom we need, young lady – your father provides us with a comfortable life, and we would do well to remember that.”
“Mmm . . . ,” Katie said with a fold of her arms. “I look forward to the day when I can provide my own comfortable life and do as I please.” Her frustration escaped in a bluster of air. “Without the restraint of my father or my husband.”
“Well, I have no doubt that if anyone can achieve that, Katie Rose, it will be you. But until then, there’s a good chance you’ll be working at the Boston Children’s Aid Society this summer whether you and I like it or not.”
Katie started to speak, but Marcy held up a hand. “And, yes, I will talk to your father, but I wouldn’t get your hopes up. He seems to think that you’ll thank him for this in the end.” Her mother’s face looked tired, but her tone had the slightest inflection of tease. “Of course, you could always pray about it, I suppose . . .” She blew her daughter a kiss at the door. “I’m heading up to bed now, so would you mind waiting up for Faith?” She nodded her head toward the smudged Kewpie doll she’d laid on the table. “Abby forgot her baby tonight, so Faith’s on retrieval. Apparently it’s Collin’s turn to read the girls a story before bed. Good night, darling.”
“Sure, Mother. Good night.” Katie sighed as her mother departed the room, reflecting on her comment about prayer – the last thing on her list of solutions. She picked up Abby’s Kewpie doll and pressed its two chubby palms together with a scrunch of her nose. Sometimes she wished prayer were as important to her as it seemed to be for the rest of her family. That would make life so easy – putting one’s cares into the capable hands of a loving Father, as her sister, Faith, was so fond of saying. Katie tossed the doll back on the table. Well, if her heavenly Father was anywhere as stubborn as her earthly one, she wasn’t too sure she wanted his help anyway. For the moment, it seemed far safer to put her faith in herself and her abilities rather than some long-distance God with a long list of rules.
“Sweet saints in heaven, it’s like a steam bath out there.” The screen door creaked as Faith hurried in, one fist flapping the front of her blouse to create a breeze. She shoved a limp strand of auburn hair away from tired green eyes and gave Katie a weary smile, her breathing winded. “Of course, it could have been the three blocks I ran to rescue Miss Kewpie, I suppose.”
Katie jumped up with a smile. “Sit. How about a lemonade? You look like you could use one.”
Hesitation flickered across Faith’s features as she glanced at the clock, then relaxed into a smile when she dropped into a chair with a groan. “Actually that does sound pretty good, Katie, thanks. Mother in bed?”
“Yes, I think this heat wrings her out worse than it does Lizzie, and Father headed up a while ago. Something about a headache, I think.” Katie poured a cool glass of lemonade for Faith, then one for herself before settling back in her chair. Faith drained half her glass in one thirsty swallow. She clunked it down on the table with a grateful sigh. “Oh, that hit the spot – thanks. A headache, huh? Mmm . . . now that you mention it, Father did seem a touch cranky at dinner.”
Katie’s lips skewed to the right. “Oh, you noticed, did you? Can you believe he’s making me spend my summer working for that annoying twit?”
“I thought Luke seemed rather nice.” Faith’s smile was gentle.
“Nice?” Katie’s tone raised several octaves. “See, that’s the problem with that pest – he always treated everyone nice but me. A regular Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Charmed the socks off of my family, but treated me like dirt.”
“I don’t remember that,” Faith sa
id with a crinkle of her brows.
“You wouldn’t – you never see the bad in anybody. But trust me, I didn’t crown him King of Misery for nothing.” She leaned forward with elbows on the table and squinted, the awful memories all flooding back. “Remember the baseball game at Lizzie and Brady’s house when I gashed my knee?”
Faith nodded, her eyes suddenly solemn.
“The little beggar tripped me,” Katie said with certainty. She hiked her leg up to tap a small, white scar on top of her knee. “Fifteen stitches, remember?”
“Come on, Katie, it was an accident.”
Her gaze thinned. “So he said, but I know better. That twerp hoarded home plate like a vulture with an evil glint in his eye, and you’re not going to tell me that it wasn’t for one purpose and one purpose only – to send me flying.”
A smile flickered at the edges of Faith’s mouth, as if she were trying to stifle it. “He simply did what any great catcher would do, Katie, try to block the plate so you couldn’t score. Besides, you know how important sports and winning always were to the poor little guy. God knows he didn’t have much else going for him.”
“Well, not friends, that’s for sure, not with a nasty streak a mile long.”
“Come on, you’re going to have to do better than that. What else did he do to warrant your wrath?”
She jutted her chin. “In addition to pestering me when nobody was looking, you mean?”
Faith grinned. “Yeah, something where you can produce a witness.”
“Okay.” Katie leaned in with a retaliatory gleam in her eyes. “Once when I was playing hopscotch in the schoolyard with my classmates, that little pest rode by on Brady’s bike and yelled, ‘Hey, O’Connor, what’s new in the dog world?’ I was mortified.”
A full-blown laugh escaped her sister, who promptly put a hand to her mouth. “Sorry, but to me, that sounds like a boy with a crush rather than one who hated you.”
Katie gasped. “Bite your tongue!” She pressed a palm to her stomach. “I think I’m going to be sick.”